


From Bro to Te Amo

by OhMyViolet



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Cuddling, Denial of Feelings, Falling In Love, First Dates, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Set after stress relief but before miroctane moments, mentions of sex but nothing explicit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:14:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22633333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhMyViolet/pseuds/OhMyViolet
Summary: The story of how two dudes who banged in a bathroom, caught feels
Relationships: Mirage | Elliott Witt/Octane | Octavio Silva
Comments: 8
Kudos: 79





	1. Chapter 1

Octavio Silva had felt many things in his twenty four years of life. The rush of adrenaline given by performing a dangerous stunt. The ringing in his ears from a crowd chanting his name. The satisfaction of looking up and seeing his face on the champion squad banner. All of them being things he liked to feel. But this? This he didn't like. He’d never wanted for anything before. Whatever he wanted, he got almost instantly. It came with having rich parents and adoring fans, throughout the galaxy. However, he doubted that this aching longing for a certain holographic trickster, wouldn’t work like that. He’d been feeling this way since he’d woken up in Elliott’s bed, that morning a few weeks ago. He remembered the feeling of being held in his arms, how he smelled, the gentle kiss that was placed to his forehead in the trickster’s half asleep state. He’d asked the runner if he was okay, made him breakfast and offered him a shirt to wear home, so he wouldn’t have to get back into his game gear. Octavio wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but he’d slept with that shirt every night until the other man’s scent had faded away, leaving him with this strange sensation of a dull, emptiness. He was tired, that’s all, and apparently Elliott smelled good enough to settle his mind down and let him sleep. That wasn’t weird was it? They were friends after all. Weren’t they?

He’d seen Elliott around since then; Around the compound, in the gym, at press events. But one memory stood out among them all. It was during a game, he'd scored himself a gold knockdown shield and was crouched in a corner, in one of the buildings in Skulltown. He could hear the familiar laughter from the trickster outside, as he moonwalked around his victims, finishing them off one by one while making sure to play up to the cameras. Octavio had just begun the process of getting back to his feet, when he heard the footsteps approach his hiding spot. He prepared himself for a bullet but instead, Mirage stepped in, glanced in his direction and left again. Maybe he just didn't see him? It was possible. Yet, the thought that maybe he purposely let him go lingered in Octavio's mind, and continued to do so right up to the current moment. 

Some of Ajay’s friends from work were visiting the city for the weekend, and Octavio had overheard her conversation with the trickster where he’d managed to charm her into bringing them by his bar. The runner had begged her to let him come along, much to the suspicion of the medic.   
“Ya don’t even drink and there ain’t gonna be much of a party. I don’t want ya sniffin’ around my girls. We don’t need this weekend ruined by broken hearts.”  
“It’s not like that!” he told her, dramatically throwing himself onto her couch. “I’m just...so bored! Please let me come! Pleeeease!”  
“I already told ya, no.”  
Part of him had wished that he hadn’t kept begging, now that he was sitting in one of the booths in the Paradise Lounge, with an inebriated girl hanging off his arm. Octavio had tactfully attempted to switch seats, after a trip to the bathroom, but the group were relentless and kept not so subtly, arranging themselves to ensure he was next to this girl. She was either in business or in humanitarian work. He didn’t remember. She wasn’t particularly interesting. Normally, he’d jump at a chance like this; someone who was obviously interested in him, and who would be out of the city when the weekend was done, no strings attached. But, for whatever reason, he just wasn’t feeling it. Not even Ajay’s dagger eyes could spur him into action. His eyes drifted towards the bar, wondering if he should just give in and have a drink like everyone else. Though, he typically hated the effects alcohol had on him, it might be welcomed in this circumstance. Sleeping with this girl might be just what he needed, to take his mind off Elliott Witt. 

The only problem was, the person he was trying to forget was working at the bar tonight, like he was most nights. Octavio let his eyes wander, while this girl began talking again about her humanitarian business or whatever it was. They drifted involuntarily towards the bar, and to his surprise, caught Elliott looking in his direction. He gave him a half smile, and a casual salut before returning to his business. The runner slumped back into his seat, with a heavy sigh, which only allowed this girl to weasel her head onto his shoulder. He considered sliding a hand onto her knee, hoping she might return the favor, and it would inspire something in him and he could take her home and be done with it. The sudden vibration in his pants pocket, letting him know he’d just received a text, was a welcome distraction. He was both surprised and relieved when he looked down at the text on his screen. 

_**Mirage:** Need rescuing?_

Octavio looked towards the bar again, locking eyes with the trickster and held his gaze for a few beats before, quickly tapping out a simple “plz”, in response. He watched as Elliott looked at his own phone, tucked it into his pocket and poured a glass of something. He whispered something to one of his staff and started making his way towards their table, immediately catching the attention of the group of women, as he approached.  
“Evenin’ folks.”  
“Witt” Ajay greeted, nodding in his direction. “Wasn’t expectin’ to see ya tonight.”  
“Well, I thought it would be so rude of me to invite you lovely people here and not stop by to say hi,” the trickster replied, winking at no one in particular, but still managed to receive a quiet giggle from one of the girls.   
He squished himself into the booth next to Octavio, prompting the group to adjust their sitting positions to make room, forcing the young woman to sit upright, removing her head from the runner’s shoulder.   
“Gosh, I should really think about getting bigger booths for this place,” he continued, taking a sip from his glass, before setting it on the table in front of him. “You all look so cosy.” 

The group spent the remainder of the evening in laid-back conversation, about a mixture of topics that Octavio couldn’t quite remember, until one of the girls announced that she was “starving” and Elliott recommended that they should get out of here and grab something to eat before all the good places were closed. The runner lingered outside the bar, awkwardly while the group said their goodbyes, unsure of what he wanted to do, or who he wanted to go with, until Elliott called him over, while the girls attempted to hail a cab.   
“I’m not really feeling food right now, so I’m gonna get going,” he told him. “It’s a nice night, so I might take a detour through the park, if you wanna walk home together. Or...are you waiting on your date?”  
“Date?” Octavio questioned, noticing how the trickster tilted his head in the direction of the girl from earlier. “Oh, her? No...uh, she’s not my date.”  
“Just one that couldn’t take the hint, huh?” Elliott spoke, a hint of amusement to his voice.  
“Something like that,” the runner responded, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. “Quick. Let’s get out of here, amigo, before she notices I’m gone.”  
True to his word, Elliott suggested they take a detour through the park, which Octavio wasn’t opposed to. The cool night air was soothing, and he wasn’t quite tired yet. He began thinking that maybe it was faith that he and that girl had not hit it off, and perhaps now he could try his luck with the trickster himself. Why else would Elliott have invited him to walk home? He hadn’t expected the holo-technician to be the type do it outside, but he wouldn’t complain. He liked them freaky.   
“I think this might be one of my favourite spots in the city,” Elliott said, snapping the younger legend from his thoughts.   
They’d stopped on the path in a spot more secluded from the rest of the park, with a bench on one side and a view of the small stream on the other.   
“I like to come here whenever I need a breather,” he continued, and Octavio had followed him and joined him on the bench before he’d even realised it.   
“You in need of a breather, compadre?”  
Elliott chuckled quietly at the question, slinging his arm over the back of the bench, brushing his fingers against Octavio’s shoulder in the process.   
“No, but I think you might. I have a feeling you haven’t been taking my advice about taking it easy.”  
A small smile formed on the runner’s lips.   
“Maybe I don’t like being told what to do.”

“So, this is your favourite spot in the whole city?” Octavio asked.   
He wasn’t usually a fan of small talk, but he was genuinely curious. Elliott could have chosen a high end club, a nice restaurant or even his own bar as his favourite place; he seemed like the type. But no, his companion had a fondness for damp park benches, apparently.   
“Yeah, it is,” Elliott replied, a wistful tone to his voice.   
“Why?”  
The trickster rubbed his hands together slowly, like he was considering the question.  
“I don’t know. It’s quiet, and there’s water and...I like...trees?”  
Octavio couldn’t contain the urge to snort.   
“You like _trees?_ ”  
“Sure.”  
“Sometimes I forgot that some of you actually grew up here,” Octavio mused out loud, folding his arms over his chest.  
It was starting to get a little chilly.   
“It feels like a vacation destination for me, sometimes.”  
“Oh, I didn’t actually grow up here,” the trickster informed him. “I mean...I did grow up on Solace but...it was a bit outside the city.”  
“Cool.”  
“What about you?” Elliott asked him, turning his body so he could face him more directly. “If this is like a vacation...that must mean it doesn’t feel like home. You finding it hard to settle in?”  
“Nah,” Octavio spoke, shaking his head. “I’ve just never been the type to settle, I guess.”  
“I see.”  
“But it’s not so bad. I like it here, so far.”  
“Personally, I find the company on Solace to be second to none.”   
Octavio turned his head to find his companion smirking at him, soft curls framing his face so perfectly, that he couldn’t help but smirk back. It was strange. Usually, trying to make casual conversation with someone he'd previously slept with was awkward to say the least. But with Elliott, it felt so easy.

“This spot actually reminds me of a scene from a movie.”  
“Oh, really?” Elliott questioned, noticing how the younger of the two leaned forward in his seat.   
“Yeah!” the runner confirmed, nodding his head enthusiastically. “It was about this guy, and his wife goes missing and all these murders start happening in or around water! And there’s this one scene where they go into the woods and there’s this little stream, like this, and they…”.   
Elliott continuously nodded his head as Octavio began to ramble about this movie, and the characters and how most of them met their untimely deaths, in water related incidents. Though, if Elliott was honest, he wasn’t entirely listening. He was too focused on the runner himself, that his words floated away, into the background. He was cute when he talked, obviously passionate about this particular film. His hazel eyes shimmered in the dim evening light, and he used his hands when he talked. His leg jittered up and down, as he continued, increasing in intensity when the plot did the same. He would stop and chew on his bottom lip when he couldn’t quite remember what happened next, and the cycle would begin again as soon as he found his place. He had very tempting lips. Elliott recalled back to how desperate he was to kiss those lips when they’d met in the bathroom, all those weeks ago, and how Octavio had been so cruel to deny him, which only made the moment sweeter, when he’d finally gotten his way. They were so tempting; the speedster’s tongue piercing only making them more interesting. He had really pretty eyelashes too, something Elliott couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed before. Dark lashes. Pretty eyelashes. Long lashes...  
“And then it turned out that there was actually this magical cult behind it the whole time. Cool, right?”   
Elliott blinked harshly a few times, forcing himself back to reality.   
“Huh?”   
“The cult.”   
“Cult?” he asked, a tinge of confusion to his voice, which didn’t go unnoticed by his companion, who merely raised an eyebrow at him.   
“Oh, you m-mean _the_ cult. Of course! I love cults! Just...uh...love me some...culting.”   
Octavio laughed, at the remark, using his hands to try rub some heat back into his arms.   
“You’re wild, compadre.”   
“Oh, for sure. You don’t know the half of it.”  
“Really?” Octavio quipped. “Now you’ve got me interested. But, if you’re really that into cults, I’d recommend that movie.”  
“Yeah? Then maybe I’ll give it a try sometime.”  
“I have it,” the runner piped up. “You can borrow it. Or...We could watch it together. I know all the behind the scenes secrets!”  
“Sure, why not,” Elliott chuckled, rubbing his hands along his thighs before moving to stand. “But, as fun as this was, we should probably get going. I’ve got early training tomorrow.”  
“Oh, yeah. Sure.”  
Octavio practically jumped up from the bench, hopping up and down a few times for warmth, which only seemed to amuse the other man.   
“Cold?”  
“I’m just not used to sitting for so long, amigo.”  
“Huh. I guess I must be special then,” Elliott hummed, unzipping his jacket and without hesitation, draped it over the younger’s shoulders. “Here.”  
“Oh...Uh, gracias.”  
“Not a problem.”  
Octavio could feel the trickster’s warmth absorb into him, as they began to walk, and it made his skin feel tingly. And of course it just had to be fragranced with his cologne. The runner sighed, at the uncomfortable twinge in his chest. 

That fucking smell. 

* * *

Elliott stomped down the hall to the locker rooms, clenching his towel in his hands tightly. Why did he always seem to be the one with the bad luck? You’d think an organisation, such as the Apex Games, who could invest so much money into the arena and weapons, might be able to spare a little extra cash when the plumbing went bust, leaving Elliott's and some other apartments on his side of the complex, without hot water. He’d made an attempt to tough it out and shower in the cold the last few days, but enough was enough. He just wanted a nice hot shower. Even if that meant using the comunal ones in the locker room, close to the gym. He wasn’t a fan, to say the least. There was a big difference between being nude in front of someone else for the sake of a hook-up and being nude...here. He’d planned his whole day around this moment. He’d taken the earlier shift at the bar, so he could do his workout late and shower, knowing no one in their right mind would use the gym this late, and those that did...probably wouldn’t be overly concerned about washing themselves afterwards. 

He stepped into the room, as quietly as he could, looking around to make sure the place was empty. After he’d decided it was safe, he made his way towards the showers. Taking one more cautious look around, he began removing his clothes, discarding them to the side, and turned the faucet on. The feeling of the hot water on his skin was a welcome respite, and he could feel it immediately begin to soothe his muscles, as be rubbed a hand along his taut shoulder. It felt like a treat to just be able to wash his hair properly, and he ended up spending much more time under the water than he originally intended.   
"Well, well, well. What do we have here?"   
Elliott jumped, almost slipping on the tiles under his feet. He turned, eyebrows furrowed, ready to whirl on whoever had made the remark, until his eyes settled on a face that was beginning to become too familiar.   
Octavio.   
The trickster turned his back to him, facing the wall, as the water continued to trickle down his body.   
"What is with you, and finding with weirdest moments to walk in on me?"   
The laugh he got in response, seemed to bounce off the walls, and made his cheeks burn.   
"It's n-not funny!"   
"What can I say? I'm just a really lucky guy."   
Elliott didn't know if he was for real or not. But, whatever. He still had to condition his hair.   
"So, what? You thought you'd just swing by for a friendly chat?"   
"Would that be a crime?" the runner asked, feigning coyness.   
"Dude, I'm naked!"   
"And? It's nothing I haven't seen before, amigo."   
Elliott rolled his eyes, and began working some conditioner into the ends of his curls. His hair really hadn't been enjoying being washed in cold water, and he'd be damned if he was going to miss out on a chance to treat his precious locks. Octavio was obviously missing the point here, though as time went on he found himself caring less. He had his back to the speedster, which meant if he wanted to stare, he'd only be catching a glimpse of his best asset. Not that he _wanted_ him to stare or anything. 

"If it makes you feel any better, compadre, I didn't intentionally follow you here" Octavio said, stepping further into the shower area, pulling his shirt over his head.   
The trickster tried to ignore the strange dull feeling that settled in his stomach, as he combed his fingers through his hair one more time.   
"You didn't?"   
"Nah," the runner continued, making his counterpart do a double take, as he stripped off and began showering under another faucet, like it was nothing. "I come back after being away for three days and I can't even have a shower in my own place! I reek, amigo. No joke!"   
Lovely.   
"Where the hell did you go for three days, where you couldn't shower?"   
Elliott had heard rumors, or moreso complaints from Ajay, that Octavio had a tendency to get himself in with the wrong crowds, and end up who knows where, during the games' down time. He couldn't help but be a little curious.   
"Parties. Meetups. Secret holes in the walls. Some literal, some not," the runner replied, with a laugh.   
The trickster shook his head, at the thought. He supposed he couldn't really blame him. He did his fair share of living the "rockstar" lifestyle when he first joined the games. Though, knowing Octane and his fans, it was probably more of an extreme lifestyle than he was used to.   
"Why are you asking, amigo?" he continued, a teasing tone to his voice. "Miss me?"   
"I didn't even notice you were gone," Elliott spoke, his bitter tone surprising himself, as he turned off the water, and grabbed his towel, securely it tightly around his waist.   
It wasn't a lie. He'd been working and training, and hadn't noticed Octavio's absence. But still, the thought of the younger legend getting up to whatever he got up to at these secret holes in these secret walls, bothered him to no end. Whatever. He didn't even want to think about it. He just wanted to go to bed. 

“Hey, wait!” Octavio called after him, causing the trickster to stop in his tracks. “Before you go, can I borrow your shampoo?”  
“You want to borrow...my shampoo?”  
Octavio blinked slowly at him.  
“Yes? Vamos, amigo. Don’t be like that!”  
“Fine. Here,” Elliott said, handing the bottle over.   
“Gracias.”  
The trickster stood watching as the runner, dump a generous dollop into his palm, and contently worked the shampoo into his hair. Until, of course, he realised he was watching and promptly averted his eyes.  
"This smells really good, compadre!" the younger legend announced, regaining his attention. "But my hair smelled like garbage before, so anything is better than that."   
"It's coconut and jasmine scented," Elliott informed him, before becoming somewhat embarrassed at the fact. "B-but, uh...Yeah, it's specially formulated for me and my hair type, so it might make your hair fall flat, I don't know."   
Octavio couldn't contain the snort that escaped him, as he continued to wash his hair, which quickly turned to full on laughter. Did Elliott seriously think he cared? But, even Octavio would admit, the trickster's hair always looked good.   
"What's so funny?"   
"Nothing, at all compadre!" the speedster replied, jovially, continuing to laugh. "I'm just over here enjoying my coconut and...Ah, mierda!"   
Apparently coconut was good for the hair but not for the eyes, something Octavio quickly learned as he rubbed at the drizzle of shampoo that had gotten into his.   
"Stop! You're gonna make it worse!" Elliott scolded him, and before he could stop himself, he was at the runner's side, fussing.   
He took Octavio's wash cloth, from where he'd dumped it on the floor, and ran it under the water, before applying it to his face. He took his chin in his hand and dabbed along the speedster's eye gently, and Octavio couldn't help but inspect the trickster with his functioning eye, while he worked.  
He really was handsome. A little taller than him. Muscular, but not overly so, that you could tell it was all natural. Hairless chest. Tanned skin. Annoyingly handsome, and more annoyingly, he was still wearing that towel. Meanwhile, Elliott was focused on his current task. Mostly. It would be such a shame if something were to happen to those pretty eyes. Those pretty lashes. His grip on Octavio's chin loosened but he held his gaze. Pretty hazel eyes, that seemed to be roaming around him, like he was looking for something. Wait, what was he looking at? Was it his stomach? His scars? Elliott took a step back on instinct, and the reality of their situation sunk back into him, as he wrapped his arms around his abdomen.   
"I...um…".  
"I, um, still have that movie," Octavio spoke, his voice much quieter than Elliott had ever heard it before. "If you're interested."   
Elliott simply nodded in response. He didn't know what to say, half naked in a public shower, with Octavio looking up at him, hair still full of suds. This was certainly the weirdest way he's been asked on a date. 

* * *

This was a date. Right?  
“It must be a date. Why else would he ask to watch a movie? Alone,” Elliott thought to himself, as he put the finishing touches on his hair.   
But what if it wasn’t a date? Octavio didn’t seem like the type to just ask people on dates, or to go on dates at all. He wasn’t Elliott’s usual type, he’d admit that, but there was something alluring about him; something that made him curious to find out more. Maybe it was the exciting, yet dangerous lifestyle he had, or the way he just seemed to not care. Octavio did his own thing, and didn’t care what others thought and Elliott found that refreshing. He, himself, did care what others thought, whether he wanted to admit that to himself or not. He wanted to look nice, to be charming, to be the gentleman, but Octavio hadn’t really given him that chance. And that was cool, he supposed. But still, that didn’t mean the trickster wasn’t going to make an effort tonight. He wore his most expensive and best smelling cologne, his hair looked perfect, his outfit looked good, having opted to go with a light grey, soft sweater and some fitted jeans. He wanted to look nice and put together, without looking like he was trying too hard. Why was he so nervous? He felt like he was going to throw up, as he stood in the kitchen, waiting. He checked his phone. Octavio was running late, and he hadn’t sent a text or anything to explain why. He wasn’t being stood up, was he? Maybe the speedster just forgot or...found someone better to hang out with. Someone like him would have tonnes of friends, right? Elliott let out a shaky breath, and ran a hand over his stomach, straightening the creases that had formed on the front of his sweater. Shit, should he have been cooking dinner for them both? If he served food, that really made it a date. And he didn’t want to do that in case he was mistaken this whole time and it wasn’t actually a date. Even though it totally was. Right? 

He hadn’t realised he’d been chewing on his nails, until he heard the knocking on the door. He peered through the peephole, and there was Octavio, just over an hour late. Classy. Elliott exhaled deeply, and stood there allowing a few beats to pass before opening the door. Octavio beamed at him, holding a couple of movie boxes in his hands, with no apology or explanation for his tardiness, and dressed in the same casual shorts and t-shirt he wore almost every time Elliott had seen him.   
Oh.  
Maybe it wasn’t a date.   
“What’s up, mi amigo?”   
“Hey.”  
Elliott leaned casually against the doorframe, expertly flicking a curl from his eye.   
“You know, this is kind of embarrassing but, I totally forgot we were doing this tonight.”  
Octavio fidgeted with the boxes he held, picking at them with his nail.   
“You did?”   
The trickster shrugged nonchalantly, moving aside to let the other man into his home. It was a lot cleaner than the last time he was here.  
“Yeah, that’s my bad, dude. I was actually thinking about getting some dinner going, if you’re hungry.”  
The runner considered the question, and nodded. He was hungry, now that he thought about it. He’d forgotten to eat today, but he’d been busy and he wasn’t about to say no to having a hot guy cook for him.   
“Sweet,” Elliott said, opening up the fridge and began rummaging around for ingredients. “You good with pork?”  
“Yup,” Octavio replied, sliding into one of the stools at the breakfast bar. “I’m a lot of things, compadre, but a fussy eater isn’t one of them.”   
“I figured you wouldn’t be, but I still like to check,” the trickster said, as he seasoned the meat. “I know some people don’t eat pork, so…”.   
The runner paid close attention, while his host continued to prepare their meal. Elliott made idle conversation about the games and their training schedule while he seared the pork chops and began peeling and slicing vegetables. Octavio wasn’t sure why, but he was finding this whole display incredibly attractive. Elliott handled the obviously sharp knife with an almost expert-like precision, and apparently the runner was into that. Huh.   
“Can I get you a drink or something?” Elliott asked, as he placed the pork chops in the oven to continue cooking.   
“Some soda would be great.”   
The trickster chuckled quietly, nodding towards his drinks cabinet.   
“I’m a bartender. I can get you something better than soda.”  
“I don’t really drink, amigo.”   
“Oh,” Elliott responded, suddenly feeling a little bad for offering the speedster beer, the last time he came over. “Well, I’m not really a soda drinker, so the best I can do is some flavoured sparkling water.”   
“Jeez, and you call yourself a bartender,” Octavio quipped back, grinning mischievously at him.

“So, what did you get up to today?” Elliott asked, as they sat down with their meals.   
It smelled delicious and Octavio couldn’t resist the urge to tuck in right away. He’d heard the trickster talk about his pork chop recipe on multiple occasions, and now he knew why. The flavours rolled over his tongue, somehow managing to be both savoury and sweet at the same time. He swallowed, noticing his companion was looking at him expectantly.   
“I went dirt biking!”   
“Dirt biking?”   
“Yeah! Just because I’m in the games now, doesn’t mean I can’t slow down on my videos.”  
The trickster took a sip of his drink.   
“So...what? You just film yourself riding a dirtbike?”  
“That’s right, amigo,” Octavio spoke, almost too proudly. “And then I sit back and watch the money roll in.”  
“That’s...awesome, actually.”  
“Right?!”   
The runner paused for a moment, a coy smile spreading to his face.   
“You know, I’m always open to guest appearances. We’d easily go viral.”  
“I don’t think so,” Elliott scoffed. “Seems a little too exciting for a guy like me.”  
“I’ll start you off nice and slow,” Octavio replied, a teasing tone to his voice.   
“I don’t think you know the meaning of the word.”   
“Alright,” the runner began, shoving more food into his mouth. “Tell me what you did today. How exciting is the life of the beloved Apex Legend, Mirage?”  
Elliott swallowed his food, harshly and wiped his mouth with a napkin before speaking.   
“Um...Well, this morning I went to the gym.”  
“Uh huh.”  
“And I worked out for a bit. And then I had a delivery I had to sign off on at the bar, so I got caught up there for a while.”  
“Si?”  
“And then I came home, answered some emails and made some repairs on my gear and now...We’re here.”   
“How exciting”, Octavio quipped. “Sounds like a lot of work. I thought you were meant to be the party guy around here, compadre!”  
“Sometimes my work involves partying,” the trickster replied with a shrug.   
“But it’s still working,” the runner persisted, resting his chin on his hand. “Do you ever stop?”  
“I’m not working right now.”   
“Debatable,” Octavio said, looking him up and down with a smirk, before shoving his now empty plate to the side. “Though, I must say, that was probably the best food I’ve had since I moved here!”  
“R-really?” the trickster asked, his eyes visibly lighting up at the compliment. “Well...thanks! It’s not really the way my mom would serve it, but…”.  
“Your mom?”  
“Uh, y-yeah.”  
Octavio noticed how he began to fidget with his fork, almost like he was nervous, and decided to indulge him, this once.   
“How would she have done it, Elliott?”  
“She, um, would’ve served it with mashed potato and the serving size would’ve been a lot bigger.”  
He laughed quietly and looked down at his plate, his lips forming into a much softer smile than the confident grins he’d been giving the speedster all evening.   
“So, you’re not a fan of mashed potato?”   
“Oh, I am!” the trickster piped up, before shrugging sheepishly. “I’m just...watching my figure, I guess.”  
He laughed, but it didn’t seem genuine.   
“That was cheat day.”  
Octavio rolled his eyes. He couldn’t be serious.   
“What are you talking about? You look great!” he said earnestly. “And, hey, if what you just served me isn’t the real deal, then I’m gonna have to track down your mom for more of this.”  
“Good luck with that,” Elliott chuckled, face slightly flushed. “She lives outside the city, so even I don’t get her food very often.”   
The speedster sighed, dramatically.  
“A guy can dream.”   
“You've uh, actually got a little something on your face,” the trickster said, pointing to a spot on his own cheek.   
He watched as the younger legend, used his tongue to search around the outside of his mouth, the retrieve the rogue food, until deciding to just grab a napkin and take care of it himself.   
“Here. I got you.”   
Everything seemed to slow down, as Elliott wiped his face. Octavio felt comfortable in his hands, and was quickly discovering he liked being close to him. His scent was intoxicating and it showed, in the way Octavio looked at him; eyes slightly lidded and pupils dilated. Elliott found himself being immediately drawn into those eyes, as soon as he looked up from his task, and before he knew what he was doing, or had time to stop himself, he was tilting his head to the side and leaning in further so their lips could meet. The kiss was hesitant from both sides at first, each having difficulty registering what was happening, but it quickly became more comfortable, more honest and was over far too soon, as the trickster pulled away, with a noticeable blush on his face.   
“S-sorry, I was just...uh...m-making sure it was gone.”  
Octavio stood from his seat, hastily wrapping his arms around the trickster’s neck, pulling him close once more.   
“I think you should check again.” 

They fumbled their way to the couch, lips and arms locked in each other’s hold, until Octavio shoved his partner into the cushions and straddled his hips before getting back to work. Elliott was overwhelmed to begin with, as Octavio forced his tongue into his mouth and began swirling it around his own, in a way that reminded the trickster of some clothing being tossed around inside the dryer. He brought his hand to rest against the back of the younger legends head, attempting to coax him into a more relaxed pace with his own tongue. Eventually, he got his way and kissing Octavio was quite pleasurable. Apparently the speedster felt the same way, as he rhythically grinded his hips against his partners. Elliott liked just kissing him, and that was enough. Having already slept with the runner twice, he felt it might lack some class to sleep with him again on the first date that might be a date but also might not be a date, because he honestly still wasn’t sure. Just kissing was enough. He didn’t want Octavio to think he he was some easy fuck he could have whenever he wanted. Because he wasn’t. Elliott Witt had class.   
  
\----------------

“Mierda, has anyone told you, you’re really good at that?”   
Elliott ran a hand through his now tousled curls, watching as the runner adjusted himself back into his underwear and shorts.   
“Yeah, m-maybe once or twice.”  
Elliott Witt had class, but was just really bad at following his own advice. He knew he had a reputation among the other legends for sleeping around with the odd fan or patreon from his bar or anyone who would have him on a bad night. He didn’t want Octavio to think that’s all he was, or that’s all he wanted. Not that he cared what Octavio thought. He just didn’t want to get a bad name in the compound, that’s all. He lay back on the couch as the runner clambered on top of him again, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth. His hand travelled down the trickster’s torso and along his abdomen, stopping to fumble with the buttons of his jeans.   
“Oh, uh, no th-that’s alright. You don’t have t-to,” Elliott stammered, reaching down to grab at the runner’s wrist, stopping him.   
“What do you mean, ''no”?'' Octavio snorted. “Come on, compadre. Don’t be like that. I owe you one.”  
“No you don't owe me anything. It’s...r-really fine. I don’t...I’m good, I just...don’t r-really wanna do th-that, right now.”   
He looked away, embarrassed. He was really doing a great job of stopping the runner from thinking less of him.   
“Okay,” Octavio said, removing his hands, and sitting back with a sigh. “I suppose I’ll take that as my cue to leave.”  
“You don’t have to go!” Elliott protested, more desperately than he intended, as he sat up. “We...haven’t watched your movie yet and I...kinda like hanging out with you...or whatever.”  
The runner let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, relaxing slightly.   
“I kinda like hanging out with you too.”   
Elliott shrugged casually, a shy smile spreading to his face.   
“Cool.”

"I could’ve bought snacks, if you’d said something, amigo,” Octavio said, as he set up the movie. “Not to brag, but it’s kind of my speciality.”  
“I mean, you can’t go wrong with popcorn, I find,” Elliott replied, returning from the kitchen with a large bowl and settling himself on the couch. “I usually tend to have some in stock.”  
“It’s all good,” the runner said, pressing the play button, and hopping onto the couch next to the trickster. “Food is food, right?”   
Octavio felt at ease as the first scenes of the movie began to play out, despite the dark tone of the film and their awkward exchange. How could he not? Elliott had him feeling entirely satisfied, despite everything, something that didn’t come easily to the speedster. He munched on handfuls of popcorn, while the trickster took dainty bites of the odd piece, perfectly content. No one ever wanted to watch the movies he picked, because they were “too obscure,” and finally having someone to idly chat to about the plot was nice. Elliott, at some point, had thrown his arm over the back of the couch, and when the speedster didn’t object to the gesture, began lazily brushing the tips of his fingers along his upper arm. It tickled, but not unpleasantly so, and Octavio found himself unconsciously leaning into the touch. At least he knew the holo-technician was still interested. The day had been long and tiring; something he hadn’t realised until he had taken a moment to sit down. Elliott smelled really good, and his touch was warm and inviting. It made his eyes feel heavy. 

Elliott, on the other hand, had never watched a more confusing movie in his life. The plot was all over the place; characters would be implied to be dead and then reappear later, the cult Octavio had mentioned, appeared out of nowhere at the end and he found himself with many unanswered questions as the credits rolled across the screen. He rubbed his fingers over his forehead, wondering what on Solace he had just watched. Though, if Octavio had been so keen for him to see it, it must have been one of his favourites and Elliott wasn’t about to start bashing it, if that was the case.   
“That was...really something,” he said, running a hand through his curls. “I had fun though. Maybe we could do this again sometime.”  
He looked towards his companion, when he didn’t get a response, fearing he’d said the wrong thing, only to find the younger legend fast asleep. Elliott knew he should have woken him, told him the movie was over and how it had gotten late and maybe he should head home if he was tired. But he looked so peaceful, a side of the speedster that Elliott wasn't sure he'd ever really seen before. When he took a closer look at his face, he noticed the dull circles under his eyes for the first time, and he just couldn't bring himself to disturb him. As gently and slowly as he could, he adjusted their position so he could lie back a little further on the couch, taking Octavio with him, allowing the runner's head to rest on his chest. He stirred slightly, and Elliott thought he'd woken him and this whole situation would be painfully awkward to explain. But Octavio simply let out a quiet huff of air, before returning to a more steady breathing rhythm, signifying that he was still soundly asleep. Elliott lay there for a while just thinking. It'd been a while since he'd just lay with someone, and it felt nice. It was comforting. Elliott had seen Octavio overcome and survive all sorts of situations in the arena, but here, the speedster seemed vulnerable. Elliott knew he was vulnerable in his own way, having dried his tears the last time they'd sat on his couch together, and in some strange way he wanted to protect the younger legend. He felt so small in his arms, despite his larger than life personality. He sighed. It was the lack of intimacy he'd had, that's all. Being able to just hold someone after being alone for so long, was making him a little emotional. He turned his head to sneakily sniff at the runner's hair. He didn't really smell like anything; Maybe a combination between the outdoors and some antiperspirant. He settled down, keeping his chin in the top of Octavio's head. He could pretend he had fallen asleep by accident too. For now, he just wanted to enjoy this. 

* * *

This became their routine over the next few weeks. Octavio would pick a movie from his collection, and they would retire to Elliott's apartment after training or a game to watch it. They were all equally bad but Elliott didn't mind. He liked the company, and found himself rearranging his work schedule on occasion to make sure he could be there. He enjoyed Octavio's company and looked forward to these evenings once a week. It was nice having someone to have dinner with, and the runner always had a topic for conversation in mind. But once a week, quickly became twice a week, and twice a week became most evenings Elliott wasn't working or Octavio didn't have some commitment to his fans to take care of. Elliott was really enjoying not having his home feel so empty anymore. Their relationship blossomed, in and outside the arena. Elliott began seeing a different side to the speedster; one that had a love for video games, old music and experimenting with artistic crafts, for his videos, funnily enough. He got the impression when Octavio said he loved his fans, he meant it, often spending hours replying to messages or promoting fan art he'd been sent. He'd get excited when he had an exciting moment from a game to share, and Elliott would occasionally get sent short clips of himself either mocking him or telling him his performance was "so awesome", depending on the day. Octavio, on the other hand, felt special that Elliott seemed to let his guard down around him, a little. The charming smiles and puns and finger guns would be toned down, and he'd complain about work or gossip about their fellow legends. He was a lot smarter than even Octavio had given him credit for, toiling over his holo-gear and it's mechanics for fun and keeping his bar afloat, despite the odds. Octavio thought, Elliott was probably the son his father might have enjoyed, but not as cold. Elliott was the opposite of cold. They worked surprisingly well together, in the arena. Elliott's decoys provided enough distraction for Octavio to quickly rush into battle, with the trickster flanking their enemies from behind. They played their victories up to the cameras and fans are it up; their antics causing their teammate to roll their eyes and tell them to get a room. 

What a great idea. 

* * *

"Mierda, you feel good", Octavio hummed, taking a firm grip on Elliott's hips and pulling him back towards him.   
"Y-yeah. You too," the trickster replied, his breath hitching as his partner continued to pound into him.   
His arms and knees felt wobbly as the speedster quickened his pace and his mind felt fuzzy, only able to muster one simple thought; What the hell had he gotten himself into?  
“Octavio?” he breathed, receiving a low chuckle from his partner in response, while he rubbed his hand down the sweat trail that had formed on the trickster’s back.   
“Si, guapo. Say my name.”  
“N-no, ah...can we m-maybe oh, slow th-this down a bit?”  
It took Octavio a few moments to comply with the request and to come to a complete stop.   
“Slow?”  
Elliott nodded, though the speedster could only see the back of his head, which masked the pink tint on his cheeks.   
“Ah...y-yeah. Just a little bit. If you don’t m-mind.”   
Octavio allowed Elliott to lead them into switching positions, following him as he moved to lay on his back, guiding his partner to hover over him. The runner laughed awkwardly as he now had a good view of his lover’s face, causing the other man to do the same.   
“Hi.”  
“Hola.”  
Elliott cupped his cheek gently, sitting up slightly to place a tender kiss on his lips, breaking the tension.   
“Take it easy,” he said softly, his voice almost a whisper, as he curled his fingers around the younger legend’s bicep. 

It was later than evening when Octavio found himself met with that same face, only this time it was laid on the pillow next to him, it’s owner soundly asleep. The runner lay on his stomach, both arms tucked under his pillow as he observed the trickster’s peaceful features, and the way his chest rose and fell, his breaths even; completely relaxed. He looked different here than he did on the TV; messy hair, slackened jaw, lips pursed into a pout instead of his signature charming smile. It felt oddly satisfying to see the beloved Mirage like this. It almost felt like a game or a prize he’d won, and everyone else in the Outlands was the loser. Octavio reached a hand out to trace a finger over the scar on the trickster’s cheek, curious about how it got there. He wasn’t looking at Mirage, right now. Here, he was just Elliott. At first, he hadn’t noticed the unusual feeling pooling in his stomach, almost like a swarm of butterflies had snaked their way in and made it their new home. They were restless, and his heartbeat quickened as he snatched his hand away, as if he’d been scalded. He scuried his way to the edge of the bed, pulled on his clothes and was racing out the door of Elliott’s apartment in seconds. 

He needed to blow off some steam. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keep in mind this all happened before the events of Miroctane Moments.

Elliott wouldn’t admit that he was hurt, when he woke up the next morning to find the other side of the bed empty. He ran a hand through his hair and looked around his bedroom in a confused daze. He hadn’t dreamt all that, had he? The used condom that had been carelessly discarded to the floor told him otherwise; It had Octavio written all over it. He rolled over, to grab his phone from the bedside table, checking for a text or any indication of the runner’s whereabouts. Nothing. He sat up and decided he would make an appearance at the canteen for breakfast this morning. Perhaps Octavio had merely woken up earlier and had gotten hungry, and went to the canteen himself. It wouldn’t be completely out of character. 

The communal eating area was full of younger fledglings, as it typically was, the sound of their chatter could be heard down the hall. He craned his neck over the crowd, scanning each table for any sign of Octavio, trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible. He eventually spotted Anita sitting at a small table, away from most of the crowd, who was quickly joined by Ajay. Elliott cringed slightly as he approached them. The medic seemed to be in a foul mood, as she slammed her food tray onto the table, and he figured he had caught the women at a bad time. He continued towards their table, regardless. If anyone would know of Octavio’s whereabouts, it would be Ajay.   
“Mornin’ ladies. Mind if I join you?”  
“Knock yourself out,” the soldier told him, gesturing to an empty seat on the other side of the table.   
A silence fell over the group as Anita finished the remainder of her coffee and Ajay poked at her eggs with her fork. Elliott looked between them both, awkwardly smoothing his hands over his thighs.   
“ _Sooooo_...Nice day. Just, uh, you two for breakfast this morning?”  
“Who else would there be?” Anita asked, raising an eyebrow at him.   
“Oh, I don’t know. We have a whole host of amazing legends here,” the trickster responded, moving his attention to the medic, before continuing, a hopeful gleam in his eye. “Octavio, maybe? You guys hang out, don’t you?”   
Ajay scoffed, dropping her fork onto her tray with a clatter.   
“Do not get me started on that fool.”  
Elliott felt his heart skipping a beat.   
“W-why? What...what did he do?”  
“Got a call off one of my girls in the medbay early this morning,” she explained. “Idiot, only got caught out doing one of his ridiculous stunts outside the compound last night. Told me, they practically had to scrape him off the pavement.”  
“Is he okay?!”  
“He’s alive. Little rat always makes it out somehow.”  
Elliott swallowed harshly, his mind swirling with thoughts.   
“And...you said this happened _last_ night?”  
The medic nodded.   
“Some time real late, they said. He can stay down there, for all I care. Medbay can keep him.”  
“Uh, yeah. Cool,” Elliott spoke, hurriedly standing from his seat. “Listen, I gotta go. I...forgot something important I had to do.”

* * *

Octavio groaned, squinting his eyes against the harsh white light. He forced his eyes to stay open, rolling them when he realised where he was; the medical bay. He turned his head to the side, ignoring the ache in his neck as he did so. He expected to see Ajay by his bedside, with her arms folded, one leg crossed over the other and her eyebrows knitted, like she usually was when he ended up here. Instead, he was met by a much different sight, one that momentarily made him question if he was dreaming. But, indeed, it was Elliott Witt who was sat at his bedside, elbows resting on his knees as he sat hunched over, looking into the distance.   
“E-Elliott?” he croaked out, his voice tired and dry.   
The trickster immediately looked up at the sound of his name, and was perched on the edge of Octavio’s bed in an instant.   
“Hey,” he said quietly, his eyes appearing to soften as he looked down at his companion.   
He didn’t seem too badly injured, with just a few scrapes and bruises on his face and arms. Only Octavio could be so lucky.   
“How are you feeling?”  
“Pretty awesome. As usual,” the runner replied, and Elliott almost laughed at the dopey grin on his face, but settled on giving him a gentle smile instead. He slipped his hand into Octavio’s, giving it a small squeeze.   
“What were you thinking? Going out in the middle of the night like that?”  
“My...fans need their content.”  
“But that doesn’t mean you need to put yourself in danger like that,” Elliott protested, feeling the younger legend’s hand become clammy against his own. “Aren’t the games enough?”  
“No,” Octavio responded, shaking his head. “The Octrain can’t be stopped.”  
“Maybe not,” the trickster continued. “But...Maybe I could...put the brakes on, a little?”  
Octavio laughed dryly.   
“Even I can’t do that, Elliott.”  
A silence passed over them, and as Octavio’s eyes flicked between the trickster’s face and their joined hands, that persistent feeling in his stomach attacked him again, making him feel hot. He jerked his hand away, averting his gaze from the other man’s. He couldn't run from this, this time.  
“I think...you should go now.”  
Elliott looked at him confused, wiping his own hand on his jeans.   
“Oh...I th-thought maybe-.”  
“You didn’t need to come here,” the runner spoke up, cutting him off. “Just...Go.”

* * *

“Mierda, Ajay. I thought I was going to die of old age before you bothered to show your face.”  
The medic flipped him off, before dumping her bag on the end of his bed.   
“I was busy. But it’s kinda hard to ignore it when ya phone is blowin’ up with messages every three seconds.”  
“Get me out of here!” Octavio whined. “I’ve been here all day! I'm bored! I don’t know where my legs are, this food sucks and I’m tired of pissing into a fucking bedpan!”  
Ajay smirked at him, while he ranted, ending the display by aggressively shoving his dinner tray away, rattling the cutlery.  
“Thought havin’ no visitors might teach ya a lesson. I see that it hasn’t.”  
“I did have a visitor, actually,” the runner snapped back.   
“Oh, yeah? Who? A nurse?”  
“No. Ell- er, Mirage was here.”  
“Oh, was he?” she replied, sitting herself down on the bed, mildly more interested in the conversation than before. “He was askin’ bout ya this mornin’. Might wanna watch out, Silva. He might have a thing for ya.”   
He knew she had intended the remark as a joke, that wasn’t supposed to mean anything, but still it bothered him, his cheeks tinting slightly.   
“He does not! We’ve just been...hanging out.”   
“Since when?”   
“Since...I don’t know. We slept together a couple of times…”.  
“Ya did what?! Jesus, Tav. Haven’t ya heard about not shitting where you eat?”  
“It’s been really good sex! You can't expect me to pass that up, amiga!” Octavio replied, holding his hands up in mock defense, before slumping back against the pillows. “But...Yeah it's been good and, he’s really cool and funny and he doesn’t complain about the movies I like and he makes really good food, and smells good all the time. He’s actually really smart too! I lost my bank card in my apartment and he told me that I could just _call_ the bank and they’d just send me a new one! I didn’t even know you _could_ call the bank! I thought it was just all...robots or whatever. And...Wait. What’s wrong with your face, chica? Why are you looking at me like that?”  
He didn’t like the way she was looking at him, with a wicked grin and leaning in towards him like she was about to share some conspiracy.   
“Oh my God, Silva. I can’t believe ya have a crush on Mirage.”  
“No! I do not! You've got it all wrong!” Octavio scoffed, beginning to feel hot again. “We’re just...Friends. Amigos. Bros. Whatever.”  
“Then why ya blushing?”  
“I am not! Shut up! I don’t like him!” the runner yelled, bawling his hands into fists. “You're wrong! Now get me out of this stupid hospital before crawl out of here myself!” 

Ajay couldn’t help but roll her eyes at this whole situation, as she stepped out into the hallway. She didn’t think too much about it at the time, when the two men had snuck off together after their drinking session. It wasn’t that she was against the idea but she knew that fooling around with coworkers could get messy, but fooling around with competitors in their line of work was just asking for trouble. They were even warned against it, when signing up for the games. She knew what Octavio was like. He’d mess people around for a few weeks, until he got bored and moved onto the next thing. She knew to keep him away from her friends, preventing a long line of broken hearts. Despite herself, she loved him like a brother; an annoying little brother who destroyed everything he touched, and somehow got a laugh out of it. She’d known Elliott for some time now, and from what little he shared about his personal life outside the games, she’d figured life had already laughed at him enough. He didn’t need someone like Octavio to get his hopes up, only to end up leaving him when he inevitably got bored. Yet, she’d never seen the speedster get so worked out about being accused of liking anyone before. He’d normally just laugh it off, make some vulgar remark about it and move on. Octavio never took anyone seriously, which made the medic wonder if there could be more to this than she thought. She shook her head as she approached the medical bay’s front desk.   
“Hiya. Octavio Silva’s lookin’ to be checked out.”  
“Of course he is,” the woman behind the desk chuckled. “He’s good to go, I’ll take his belongings to his room shortly. Though, he’s going to need some painkillers which we won’t have until maybe an hour from now, if you’d like to come back.”  
“Not a problem,” Ajay said, with a smile as she stepped away.   
She paused before reentering Octavio’s room and pulled out her phone, staring at the screen for a few moments before dialling the number she needed. She had a feeling she was going to regret this.   
“Hello?”   
“Listen, Witt, I don’t have time to mess around. I’m visitin’ Octavio right now and he’s told me what’s been going on between ya.”  
The line went quiet for a few seconds before Elliott spoke up.   
“I’m...I don’t know what he’s said but...I’m s-sorry. He never said th-there was anything going on between you two so I just assumed-.”  
“What the hell ya talkin’ about?” she replied with a scoff. “Gross. It ain’t like that at all.”  
“Then...what is this about?”  
“I’m only gonna tell ya this once, Witt, so listen up. He’s not gonna settle, if that’s what you’re looking for.”  
“I don’t…”.  
“Ya can think you’re gonna change him or whatever, but he don’t change. I just don’t wanna see ya gon’ get yourself hurt, when there’s somethin’ I could’ve done about it. Ain’t my style.”  
Elliott cleared his throat.   
“I, uh...don’t r-really know what to say here.”  
“Then don’t say a thing. I’m just warnin’ ya. Whatever ya wanna do after that is ya own business.”

* * *

Octavio swung his legs over the arm of the armchair he sat in, attempting to get comfortable as he applied the finishing touches to the roll he was creating. He ran his tongue along the paper's edge, folding it to seal it closed. Lighting one end provided a sense of comfort, the small flame giving light to the otherwise dim room, before it was gone again, leaving only the green glow of the lava lamp next to his computer. He hadn't had time to do any editing or social media posts today, having spent most of it in the med bay. He had time now, perhaps, but didn't really feel up to it. Ajay had walked him home, and immediately left again, saying she had work to do. He had half hoped she would've let him crash at her place tonight, and maybe even offered to cook for him. His body felt annoyingly stiff, as he tilted his head to one side, allowing his shoulder to stretch out, emitting a satisfying crack. What would he eat tonight? He could order food in, but the empty take out cartons on his desk from a few days ago made him wrinkle his nose, deciding otherwise. His mind couldn't help but wander to what Elliott might be doing right now. Maybe he was at the bar or working on his holo-tech. Octavio smiled slightly to himself at the thought. He was probably doing that thing where he would misplace his pen, only for it to be tucked behind his ear, like he always did when he was concentrating too hard. He felt a little bad for telling him to leave earlier, but some things just have to be done. He didn't need anyone, he was just fine on his own. Now that he thought about it, he probably had some instant ramen in the kitchen somewhere. He exhaled, creating a cloud of smoke in front of his face. It was better than nothing. 

Elliott walked slowly down the hall, towards Octavio’s apartment, clutching the white bag in his hands tightly. He’d told Ajay over the phone that he didn’t know what he wanted to do. He liked Octavio's company and had only wanted to see if he was alright. She’d laughed and had said she didn’t have time to drop off his meds, so she’d asked him to do her the favor, if he didn't mind. He didn't mind, and was hoping it might give them time to talk things over. He felt nervous. Octavio was acting strange and he was getting the impression the speedster didn’t want to talk to him. He couldn't help but wonder if he'd done something last night to offend him. He fixed his hair and cleared his throat, breathing out slowly before finally knocking on the door. He waited and listened for a response, eventually hearing a muffled "it's open", followed by a series of coughs.   
Elliott stepped into the apartment quietly, his boots barely making a sound on the wooden flooring. Octavio's apartment seemed so different from his own, despite having almost identical layouts. Octavio's place was almost a barren wasteland in terms of furniture; an Apex provided loveseat and armchair sat in the middle, with an unmarked cardboard box acting as an end table. There was a TV screwed to the wall with a games console and matching controllers strewn across the floor underneath. His computer and desk was pushed against the opposite wall, surrounded by his own posters and merchandise. And in the middle of it all, sat the man himself; head thrown back and spouting smoke as if he was a small chimney. 

Octavio's heart skipped a beat when he finally sat up, and saw who was stood there. He was expecting Ajay, not...this.   
"What the hell are you doing here?"   
Elliott tossed the bag he was holding in the runner's direction.  
"Ajay...said you needed those. She, uh...couldn't bring them by herself so she asked me."   
Octavio snorted, depositing his smoke into the nearby ashtray.   
"Of course she did."   
"What...what is that?" Elliott asked, tilting his head towards the tray. "You shouldn't be smoking that shit."   
Octavio's shrugged.   
"It takes the edge off, amigo."   
The trickster viably bristled at the word.   
"Yeah, well...you've got your meds now so, you don't need that."   
"Why is it everyone around here thinks they know what's best for me, eh?"  
"Because you obviously don't know!" Elliott retaliated, his voice raising slightly. "If you did, you wouldn't have ended up in the med bay!"   
"Where else would I have been?!" Octavio yelled back, sitting up straighter in his seat. "It's what happens! It's my gig!"   
"You should've been with me!" Elliott continued, his words ringing through the room, stunning them both.   
Octavio began to laugh dryly after a few moments, his mouth running equally as dry.  
"Get out. You're boring."   
He pulled his hood up and lay back again, so he wouldn't have to see the other man head for the door. However, Elliott didn't leave, instead he stopped just before reaching the door.   
"No."   
"What do you mean "no"?"  
"I m-mean...I have something to say and you're gonna listen to me!"  
"Am I?"   
"Yes!" Elliott said, stepping back into the room. "I...I want to know wh-what's going on here!"   
"Well, I don't know about you, compadre, but I'm gonna get blazed."   
"No! What's going on here?! With...us?"  
Octavio could feel his heart rate pick up as he opened his mouth to speak.   
"We're just friends."   
"Don't give me that shit," Elliott snapped. "You seriously th-think kissing me, staying with me all the time, having _sex_ with me...All th-that, makes us "just friends"?"   
"Yes."   
"You're delusional. What is it? Why are you being like this?"   
"I'm not being like anything, amigo."   
"What are you scared of?"   
"I'm not scared of anything!" Octavio spat back, jumping out of seat and stomping over to the trickster. "Get out of here!"   
"Why do you keep telling me to go away?! What did I do?!" Elliott pleaded, standing his ground until he received a light shove to the chest from the smaller man.   
"Leave me alone!"   
"Get your hands off me!"   
"You weren’t saying that last night, were you? You liked my hands on you," Octavio hissed, invading the trickster's space further. "You want to know what's going on here? You _really_ want to know? You were an easy fuck. And now you've got a stick up your ass because I don't wanna hold hands and play happy families."   
He expected Elliott to speak up again, to plead with him again; to say anything at all. But instead, all he did was turn on his heel and walk out, slamming the door behind him. Octavio stood there for a few moments, trying to process what had just happened, quickly rushing to the door just in time to see the trickster call for the elevator.   
"Where are you going?!" he called down the hallway. "Elliott?!" 

* * *

Guilt followed him everywhere over the coming days. Every time he closed his eyes, there he was. Every time he spoke to someone their voice would sound like a painful ringing in his ears and he would find himself glancing over their shoulder for him. Every time he showered his skin would be tinted pink, but it still wasn’t enough for him to feel anything else. His social media remained untouched. For perhaps the first time in his life, he felt drained and tired. His body begged him to sleep, but he couldn’t. He buried his nose into the soft fabric of Elliott’s shirt, that he’d still kept, though it had lost its scent some time ago. He slid his hands through his hair and tugged. How could he have let this happen? Why did he let Elliott get into his head like this? Eyes on the prize, head in the game. That was the Octane way. Not...this. 

He could get over this. He could. He knew he could. Or, he could just run from it, which to Octavio seemed like the more logical option. He sped through the arena, sprinting in no particular direction. He shot a stim to keep up the pace, heart hammering in his chest as he kept going as fast as he could; ignoring any gun fights that were taking place as he galloped past. He shot another stim. He had to keep going. The destination, he didn’t know, he just knew he had to get there. He shot another stim, and another.   
“Silva?!” Bangalore yelled at him through his comms, her voice straining to be heard over the sound of gunshots. “Where the hell are you?! We need you over here! We’re-”.  
He switched the device off, silencing her. He didn’t care where they placed this time. He just had to keep running. Another stim down. He was so focused on his mystery location, that he almost didn’t feel the impact that hit him, at first. He skidded, and tumbled to the ground in a heap, his hand instinctively moving to clutch at the bloody patch on his side. His head whipped around, spotting a glinting light in the distance.   
“Hijo de puta.”  
Damn sniper. 

He dragged himself behind a large rock, to inspect his situation. It was only now he began to think that perhaps running off at the beginning of the match without picking up a weapon or armor was a bad idea. He pulled his knees as close to him as he could muster, as soon as he heard footsteps coming in his direction. He tried to make himself as small as possible, in the hopes he wouldn’t be spotted, but his pursuer seemed to already know exactly where he was. Octavio wanted the arena to open up and swallow him whole, as soon as he looked up to see Elliott standing over him. It just had to be him. He seemed to make some sort of hand signal towards the shooter in the distance before turning his attention to the downed legend.   
“No one had your back, huh? Hate when that happens.”  
The runner gritted his teeth, his current sitting position only making the throbbing in his side worse.   
“My squad’s not close.”  
“Shame,” the trickster spoke, before taking a step back to leave.   
“Wait! You’re not even gonna finish me off?!”  
“Nope.”

* * *

Octavio would admit that being left to bleed out like that wasn’t exactly the most fun thing in the world. In a messed up way, he was kind of impressed. He didn’t think Elliott had it in him to be so cold, and it was honestly a little badass. But on the other hand, he was a bit concerned. Elliott didn’t seem like himself and it made something inside his chest shift uncomfortably. He did feel bad for what he had said, and he hadn’t meant it. He just wanted Elliott to not like him anymore, and for this gross feeling he got whenever he thought of him to go away. He could maybe apologise. Check in. Once he did that, they could just go back to being friends and everything would just go back to normal, right? He sighed to himself, scrubbing a hand through his hair as he reached for his phone and began to type. 

_**Octane:** Hola, it’s me. Mira, I know that I’m probably the last person you want to hear from right now but I just can’t stop thinking about you. I feel like I’m going crazy. I want us to be cool and hang out again. I didn’t mean all that shit I said. I was a real dick. I just said them because…_

Because what? Why? Why did he say all those things? Octavio lay back in his chair, mind overflowing with thoughts. Because he wanted to hurt him? No. Because he wanted Elliott to hate him? Nof necessarily. Because he wanted him out of his life? No. Not at all. He didn’t want any of those things. Not really. He exhaled deeply and shut his eyes, allowing his phone to slip from his grasp and fall to his chest.   
“Because...I’m scared.” 

Elliott sat hunched over his breakfast bar. He raised his glass to his lips, draining the contents slowly, allowing the amber liquid to roll over his tongue, and burn at the back of his throat. He wiped at his cheeks with his spare hand, as he refilled his glass. Ajay was right and he was wrong. Something told him deep down that Octavio was different from everyone else he’d dated. He thought they had a connection, and he foolishly let himself begin to fall for him. He was just an idiot, with terrible taste in people. He thought staying away would help. He thought trying to hurt Octavio back would make him feel better, but neither did. He took another sip from his glass. Maybe he should give up on dating altogether and just stay on his own. The universe seemed to prefer him lonely. He ran the tip of his finger along the rim of his glass, a heavy feeling settling over him. He sighed when his phone buzzed. He really wasn’t in the mood to deal with work tonight. 

_**Octane:** Hope you’re feeling good after that badass display today jaja. We good? _

Elliott ran his fingers over his forehead as he set his phone down. Were they “good”? Was Octavio for real, right now? He grabbed the bottle of whisky from the counter and topped up his glass, before taking a swig. He sniffled. What was his deal? If he didn’t want him why couldn’t he just leave him alone? 

* * *

It must have been almost four in the morning when Octavio heard the heavy knocks against his front door. He sat up with a groan, pausing the movie he was watching. It was almost on the part where the cult first shows up and he was slowly coming to the conclusion that yes, this movie was actually terrible, until he was interrupted. Upon opening the door, he was presented with a very obviously intoxicated Elliott, slumped against his doorframe.   
"You...f-fuck."   
Octavio squinted at him and pointed to himself.   
"Me?"   
"F-fucker."   
"Did you want something or did you just come here to swear at me?"   
"You w-won't leave m-me alone!" the trickster continued, stumbling his way into the apartment. "You want m-me to leave you alone but th-then you want us to b-be good. I can't even th-think straight."   
"Well...yeah. I thought you were bisexual?"  
"Wh-whatever".   
Octavio watched him as he moved towards the couch with the intent of sitting on its arm, but completely miss-calculated it, ending up on the floor. He threw his hands up in defeat.   
"I hate y-you."   
The runner swallowed harshly.   
"You do?"   
"For m-making me like you," Elliott said quietly, bowing his head and fumbling with his hands. "And th-then...n-not liking me back."   
Octavio came to kneel beside him. He would probably forget all this in the morning.  
"I...do like you."   
"As fr-friends."   
Octavio let out a shaky breath and wiped his clammy hands on his shorts.   
"No."   
The trickster tilted his face towards him, looking at him through narrowed eyes.   
"You're...confusing."   
"Yeah. I know. I'm fucked up, Elliott. I...am a fuck up."   
"And you th-think I'm n-not?!" Elliott scoffed. "Look at m-me. Do you seriously look at th-this and see per-perfection?"   
"Maybe."   
A silence passed between them, while Elliott looked him over, eyes half lidded. Octavio leaned into his touch, when his hand was placed on his cheek.   
"Elliott…".   
"I like you."   
Octavio couldn't contain his whimper when Elliott kissed him, soft yet desperate.   
"I...need you...to ah stop", he managed to get out between kisses. "I...don't have...any restraint."   
"I don't wan-wanna stop", Elliott responded, wrapping his arms around him clumsily.   
"I'm...trying really hard to not fuck this up more than I already have," Octavio said, turning his face away when the trickster tried to kiss him again. "I'm trying... _really_ hard."   
He sighed, leaning their foreheads together.   
"Please, don't make it harder on me." 

"Do you want some water?"   
"No," the trickster mumbled, carelessly flopping his head back against the pillow. "I wanna s-stay drunk forever."   
Octavio shuffled awkwardly, on the edge of the bed. It had been some ordeal to get Elliott back to the safety of his own apartment. He was adamant he didn't want to leave and it took a lot of persuasion and half carrying, half dragging him on wobbly legs to get him home. He dejectedly set the bottle of water he was holding on the bedside table. He stood, and wandered into the bathroom with the intention of finding something that might quell the possible headache, Elliott may have in the morning. He pulled open a drawer under the sink and was met with nothing except an excess of hair products. Various containers of different mouterizers and bottles of scents littered the bathroom counter. He couldn’t help but be a little curious and sniff each cologne in turn, his eyes rolling in satisfaction when he found the one he was so fond of. It was in a ridiculously pretentious looking bottle; Black glass with gold trim and a fancy topper. It was something he definitely would’ve turned his nose up at a few months ago but it felt different now. He opened a cabinet and found what he was looking for. Each of the narrow shelves was stuffed with pill bottles, and it only took a quick moment's inspection to figure out that they were all painkillers, in varying strengths. He glanced suspiciously at the open door that led into Elliott's bedroom, wondering what in the world he needed all this for. Even Octavio himself didn’t have this much in his possession, and he needed it on the regular.  
“I’ll just leave these here, in case you need them,” he said, leaving two pills on the nightstand next to the trickster’s bed.   
“Don’t go,” Elliott told him, reaching out for his hand. “I don’t...wan-wanna be on m-my own.”   
“Go to sleep,” Octavio replied, moving to switch off the light and leave, pausing when he heard the trickster pipe up again.   
“I th-thought you m-might have been something good in m-my life for once. I’m supp-supposed to be the guy who fools everyone. But I only ever end up fooling m-myself.”

He was only fooling himself.   
Octavio felt that on another level, as he sat on the floor of his own apartment, after leaving Elliott to his own devices. He’d fooled himself for years. He fooled himself with his parents thinking they’d ever accept him for who he was. He fooled himself with every friend he ever had, thinking they’d stick around. Even Ajay had gotten tired of him for a while and they’d been through everything together. He was always the one who was told he was “too much”. No one ever loved him the way he was. He seeked out empty relationships; a quick chat at a party here, a hook-up there. Everyone always abandoned him eventually, so he took it upon himself to be ahead of the game. He wouldn’t let them hurt him, if he got out of there first. He’d be damned before he let the same thing happen with Elliott. He pulled his knees into his chest, as a rogue tear trickled down his cheek. Elliott could have his pick of anyone he wanted. Everyone loved him. The thought was intended to provide him with some comfort; to remind him that Elliott would find someone else as soon as he decided he was too much, so it wasn’t worth wasting his time. He would come to that conclusion, Octavio knew this. Everyone did. But the thought didn’t help. Instead it stung, and it stung bad. His shoulders shook as he let out a choked sob, burying his face in his arms. He was alone, and it hurt more this time, no matter how much he had tried to protect himself from it. 

* * *

“Oi! Silva!”   
Octavio groaned, pulling the blanket over his head as he rolled over on the couch, trying to ignore the pounding on the door.   
“Ya in there or not?”   
He continued to ignore the knocking, until he heard the door being shoved open. He sighed and tousled his hair. He shouldn’t have given her his spare keycard.  
“There ya are,” Ajay huffed, making her way towards him. “Haven’t heard nothin’ from ya for days! Thought ya were dead!”   
“Go away,” the runner mumbled, pulling his blanket further over himself.   
“What’s with ya? Ya missed training twice this week. And it smells in here.”  
“Then leave!”  
He let out a disgruntled noise when the blanket was tore away from him, and the medic was shoving him over to make room for herself. She looked him over, brow furrowing in concern.   
"Ya been crying?"   
"No."   
"I may as well have a degree in bein' an agony aunt," she said. "Can't hide shit from me, ya know. What's up?"   
Octavio sighed loudly, and fumbled with his hands before answering.   
"I've fucked things up big time with, Elliott."  
"Thought ya didn't like him?"  
"You know I do! Stop being annoying."   
Over the next while, he explained everything that happened over the past few weeks, sometimes in very accurate detail, much to the displeasure of his companion. She looked at him when he was done, chin resting on her hand in thought.   
"Yeah...sounds like ya fucked up, alright."   
"Thanks," he responded, flopping himself back onto the couch. "So...what do you think I should do?"   
"Do ya want him?"   
"Of course I do! Who doesn't?!"   
"But do ya _really_ want him? To date him?"   
"I don't know," Octavio sighed. "I do...I think but...I don't know! All this... _feelings_ crap is hard and gross."   
Ajay patted his leg sympathetically.   
"Some things in life you actually have to work for."   
"I don't even know where to start with all this stuff."   
"An apology might be a good place to start. A proper one. Tell him what he means to you."   
He considered her words.   
"I don't know if he'll even want to see me, when he's sober. What if I show up to his apartment and he doesn't even let me in?"   
"Do it at Makoa's party. Just don't cause a scene."   
Octavio squinted at her.   
"What party?"  
"He's invited everyone over for dinner this weekend", Ajay told him, pulling out her phone to show him the group messages between the legends. "Almost everyone's going. Elliott said he was. Where's ya phone?"   
"I don't know, it died a while ago," Octavio shrugged, scrolling through the chat. "I haven't been using it."   
"Wow. That's how I know ya been going through it," she said, shoving him lightly. 

* * *

Octavio dug frantically through his closet, trying to find something decent to wear. The group was expected at Makoa’s in just over an hour and he’d spent most of the day running around the city, trying to get his head straight. He’d been thinking about today for a few days now, and had come to terms with the idea of liking Elliott and how maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing. Sure, there was the risk that Elliott may turn out like everyone else, but he needed to take it. Anything was better than feeling the way he was. He was the king of risk taking, after all. He bounced up and down in front of the mirror, looking his outfit over. It was nothing special, but Ajay had pointed out that wearing Elliott’s own merch was “borderline creepy and desperate”, so he’d opted for a clean t-shirt and some fitted jean shorts instead. He didn’t know exactly what he was going to say to Elliott, he only knew he needed to lay his cards on the table and then it was up to the trickster from there. It was the perfect situation. They could talk and if things went wrong, he would have the rest of the group there to act as a buffer and distraction. He never thought he would ever be pleased at the idea of having a safety net. It was scary but also kind of exciting, and his body buzzed with nervous energy. Until, his phone buzzed and he opened the group messages to find a text from the trickster himself, and he could physically feel his heart drop when he read it. 

_**Mirage:** Hey guys. Not gonna be able to make it tonight. Something’s come up. Have a drink for me. _

Octavio blinked a few times after reading the message, feeling a sudden wave of disappointment wash over him. His shoulders slumped but, upon reading the message again, something didn’t feel right. Elliott never passed up the opportunity to party and to have an audience to show off his drink mixing skills to, no matter how small. He drummed his fingers on the back of his phone. Ajay was right. Some things in life, you just had to work for. 

* * *

Elliott traced a finger around the rim of his now empty glass, contemplating whether he should pour another or not. How was it possible he was even growing tired of drinking? He swept a stray curl out of his eyes, that had escaped the clip he was using to pin his hair back. He hadn’t washed it in a while but still couldn’t stand the feeling of greasy hair on his face. He bristled when he heard a knock at the door, and rolled his eyes. Pathfinder had bugged him enough about Makoa’s party at work today, and he really didn’t want a second round of it. He dragged his feet to the door and opened it with a sigh.  
“Listen, Path. I already told you-”.   
“Wrong guy. I’m only half robot, I'm afraid.”  
Elliott narrowed his eyes and folded his arms, when he realised who it was.   
“What do you want?”  
“I um, brought you some food,” Octavio said, holding up the carrier bag he was holding. “I thought you might be hungry, since you’re skipping dinner tonight. Erm...Can I come in?”  
Elliott stepped aside, wordlessly giving him permission to enter. 

They sat on the living floor around the coffee table, while Octavio distributed the burgers and fries he’d picked up. They ate in silence, for what felt like forever, until the runner just couldn’t bear it any longer.   
“I uh, didn’t know what you liked so I just got everything,” he said, watching as the trickster not-so-subtly scraped some of the toppings off his burger and licked the excess sauce off his fingers. He took a bite without saying anything, prompting the runner to continue.   
“I really came over because I...wanted to say I’m sorry. For everything. I didn’t mean all those shitty things I said to you. I really didn’t.”  
Elliott took a sip from his soda, swallowing harshly.   
“So, what? You think you can buy me dinner, and say you’re sorry and I’ll just jump back into bed with you?”  
“No! No, that’s...it’s not like that!” Octavio protested. “I...never really did this...whatever _this_ is, before. And it...freaked me out. I didn’t know what to do. I thought I wanted you to go away and if you did then...all those _feelings_ would too. But they didn’t. And then I got scared and...I fucked everything up. But, I do...I do like you. I really, really like you.”  
“How do I know you’re not just...saying all this?”  
Octavio shrugged, sheepishly.   
“I guess you don’t but, I just admitted I was scared of something to you. I have a reputation to uphold so I figure that might stand for something.”  
The trickster cracked a small smile at the statement.   
“I am super sorry,” Octavio continued, awkwardly playing with the straw in his drink. “And I want to be able to hang out again.”  
He exhaled deeply after that, feeling like a small weight had been lifted from his shoulders.   
“So...what do you think?”  
Elliott nibbled daintily at a French fry as if trying to buy himself time, before answering.   
"I think...that I don't want to just sleep with you anymore."   
"Okay! Good! That's good, because I don't want to sleep with you either! I mean...I do. Obviously. But-"   
"Honestly...I'm still a little confused about what you want," Elliott said. "And I th-think you are too."   
"I'm not!" the runner persisted. "I want us to hang out again!"   
"So, you want us to be...friends?"   
"No, I...I like you. I told you, I like you," Octavio spoke, wiping his sweaty hands on his shorts. "Do you...like me? After everything?"   
Elliott seemed to exhale deeply, before speaking.  
"I'm...willing to give you another chance," he said. "If you...mean it and and you're...really sorry."   
"I am!"   
"Then prove it. Let me take you on a date. A real date. No weird stuff."  
Octavio perked up at the idea.   
"What did you have in mind?"   
The trickster ran a hand over his beard.   
"Fancy dinner? In a nice restaurant in the city."  
"Fancy dinners aren't really my thing."   
Octavio covered his mouth when he noticed his companion raising an eyebrow at him.   
"Why...why don't you let me take you on a date?" he suggested, relaxing slightly upon noticing Elliott's intrigued expression.   
"Alright, Silva. Let's see what you got." 

* * *

"I'm telling you these games are rigged!" Octavio exclaimed, as they stepped away from the booth.   
He'd decided that taking Elliott on a date was the perfect opportunity to take advantage of the travelling carnival that had stopped in the city. He'd never had to plan a date before, and he thought this was a good choice. They could enjoy the outdoors and the nice weather and Octavio could show off his skills at these carnival games. Except it wasn't going according to plan, having failed to win anything from the last four booths they'd visited.   
"I'm telling you, it's rigged!" he continued, his ranting getting an amused laugh from his date. "I literally shoot things everyday! I did not miss that shot on that target! I know I didn't!"   
"It's fine. It's just a bit of fun, right?"   
"It's rigged!"   
"You think someone on Solace is trying to con people?" Elliott chuckled, his tone sarcastic. "That's new. Besides, as cool as the idea was, the more I think about it, the more I realise I don't actually need a four foot long stuffed crocodile in my life."  
"Well maybe I do!" Octavio sighed dramatically. "It would've been so awesome in my room!" 

"Tell me more about what it was like growing up here", Octavio said, plopping himself down on a bench next to the trickster, candyfloss in hand.   
Elliott's shoulders visibly tensed.   
"What exactly do you wanna know?"   
"Whatever. Tell me anything," Octavio shrugged, shoving some sugary goodness into his mouth. "I'm...really trying here."   
"Okay, okay," the trickster spoke, rubbing his hands together in thought. "It wasn't really anything exciting. There was the war so…".   
"What was that like?"   
"Scary, I guess. There wasn't much fighting here but...sometimes they'd come through here for supplies, resources...re-recruiting. That kind of stuff."   
"Do you want some candy floss?" the runner asked, causing his date to laugh quietly.   
"You mean, do I want just literal sugar?"   
"Why not? Treat yourself!"   
Octavio watched as the trickster pinched the tiniest piece from the floss and ate it. It was like a miniscule cloud of nostalgia was melting over his tongue.   
"I haven't had that stuff since...um…," he trailed off, looking away. "In...in a while."   
"It's really good though," Octavio spoke up, grabbing another bite. "I could eat this all day!"   
"I think it's your turn to tell me about your childhood now," raising an eyebrow as Octavio practically inhaled the rest of the candy floss in a couple of bites, but some how managed to still look cute while doing it.   
Damn him.   
Octavio swallowed harshly.   
"Um...It was boring."   
"Come on, you must have something to tell me," Elliott persisted, a teasing tone to his voice. "Embarrassing stories? Childhood pets? Middle name?"   
"I am _not_ telling you my middle name!", the speedster snorted. "And I didn't have any pets. I wanted a rabbit but...I never got one."   
"That sucks."   
"Yeah...My parents said I wouldn't look after it. But it's not like they were at home to know what I did."   
"You...weren't raised by your parents?"   
Octavio shrugged.   
"I was. I guess. They just...weren't around a lot."   
"Sorry to hear that. It must have been tough on you."   
"It was whatever. I had a lot of nannies," the runner said, shrugging nonchalantly again. "People used to say I was really like my dad. Look how wrong they were." 

They spent the remainder of the day trying out the various rides the carnival had to offer. Each was rated by Octavio in turn, none of them giving him the rush he was looking for.   
"I would give that one, a three," he said, as they stepped away from the ghost train. "Not exciting enough. And I'm pretty sure the headless man, _had_ a head at some point. The set was just falling apart."   
"I don't know what you were expecting, when you decided to come here," Elliott chuckled. "Why don't we give the Ferris wheel a go? I reckon there'll be a pretty sweet view of the city from the top."   
The queue for the ride was relatively short, and Octavio figured it was because people had a preference for the more exciting rides. He certainly did, but he wouldn't argue. He was supposed to be on his best behaviour.   
"These seats are a bit more rickety than I thought they'd be," Elliott whispered, as they slid into the two seater carriage.   
"Adds to the excitement, right?" Octavio quipped, merrily swinging his legs over the side.   
"You're crazy," the trickster laughed, settling into his seat, slightly more relaxed as they began moving.   
"So, are you going to point out all the amazing sights?"   
"I promised you a view, not sights," Elliott replied, mildly amused at his enthusiasm.   
"Vamos. Try."   
"Um...alright", he replied, running a hand over his beard. "Okay, well...over there you can kind of see the park."   
He traced the landscape with his finger, prompting the runner to follow him with his eyes.   
"The...higher end part of town is...over there somewhere. And all the way to your right, is the Paradise Lounge. I hear they've got a really handsome bartender who makes the best drinks in the city."   
"Shut up!" Octavio snorted, shoving him playfully, the force causing the carriage to rock back and forth.   
"Oh, sh-shit", Elliott breathed, grabbing onto the safety bar with both hands.   
"Don't tell me you're scared of heights?" the runner teased.   
"Ahh...I'd say it's more of a fear of falling to my death", he responded, breathlessly. "Ironic, really. I guess. With the uh, dropship and all."   
"You know what I like to do with fears?" Octavio continued, a mischievous smile spreading to his face, as he adjusted his seating position.   
"Wh-what?"   
"Crush them."   
Using as much strength as he could muster, he built enough momentum to begin swinging them slightly.   
"What are you doing?! Oh my God!" Elliott yelped, grabbing onto Octavio's arm, whilst he continued to cackle, and sit more stilly allowing them to slow down to a stop.   
"You're insane!"   
The runner smirked to himself, noticing the other man's grip wrapped around his bicep.   
"Insanely... _awesome_."   
"You wish," Elliott quipped, but couldn't help but smile sheepishly back.   
"Okay, if not that then, what about... _daring?_ "   
Elliott didn’t budge when he leaned closer, allowing him to place a searing kiss on his lips. His heart increased in rhythm as the kiss became more intense, warmth spreading through his body.   
Perhaps it was possible to get a rush from the Ferris wheel after all. 

“I had a cool time today,” Octavio spoke, as they arrived outside of Elliott’s apartment, now late evening.   
“Yeah, me too. Thanks,” Elliott replied, shoving his hands into his pockets, his eyes drifting to the floor.   
Octavio rocked on his feet, feeling uneasy.   
“Then why do you look like you’re about to tell me my dog just died?”  
“You have a dog?” the trickster asked, piping up.  
“No...I was just…”.  
“Oh. Y-yeah. Of course."  
Elliott cleared his throat and leaned against the wall before continuing.  
“I just...figured it’s best to get this out of the way early”, he said, his voice quiet. “I’m...tired of getting m-messed around by people. So, if you’re serious about trying...whatever this is, I...need to know you’re not going to be seeing anyone else, at the same time.”  
“Elliott…”.   
The trickster held his hand up stopping him.   
“I really hate being that guy but...I’m just laying my cards on the table, off the bat. And then...I guess it’s your choice after that. You don’t have to...make it right away. I’ll give you some time to think it over.”   
He placed a gentle kiss on the speedster’s cheek, and headed inside without another word, leaving Octavio uncharacteristically speechless. It seemed to be becoming a theme when he was around Elliott, and he wasn't sure if he was liking it or not. 

* * *

Some weeks later, Octavio found himself slumped over the breakfast bar, sipping the last of his soda from his glass. It had been a strange few weeks for him, full of new experiences he wouldn’t even have considered happening before. But he felt good. Really good. This feeling was only solidified further, when he looked up upon hearing footsteps coming from the bedroom. He smiled at the sight before him, allowing all those feelings he’d been trying so hard to suppress, to take over, making him feel warm on the inside. There stood Elliott, smiling back at him, in a fashionable, fitted suit. He toyed with the cuff of his sleeve, nervously.   
“So...what do you think? Is it too much?”  
“I think you look amazing.”  
Elliott beamed at the compliment, stepping closer to him.   
“You don’t look too bad yourself. You’re almost making me want to skip dinner and eat you up instead.”  
“I wouldn’t have a problem with that at all,” Octavio quipped, making the other man laugh.   
“I promise, fine dining on Solace is probably not up to the standard you’re used to,” the trickster said, taking both of the younger legend’s hands in his, and swinging them back and forth playfully. “And if I’m wrong, you have full permission to say “I told you so”.”   
“I’m gonna take full advantage of that, just you wait!”   
“So, are you ready to go?”   
“Sure,” Octavio replied, tugging at his shirt collar. “You know, I’ve never worn a tie for anyone in my life, except my mother.”  
Elliott chuckled, as he opened the door for him.   
“I guess that must make me special then.”   
Octavio rolled his eyes playfully at the remark, graciously slipping his hand into Elliott’s, when it was offered to him.   
"I guess it does."

Octavio Silva had made many decisions in his twenty-four years of life; some right, some wrong, some questionable. But here, right now, in this moment...he knew he’d made a good one.   



End file.
